


it should hurt (if you’re doing it right)

by winter_angst



Series: Dribble Drabbles [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Flashbacks, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Post CAWS, Smut, low calorie angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 20:09:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21185282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: Jack doesn’t talk to Brock anymore, not since that night.





	it should hurt (if you’re doing it right)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Должно болеть (если все делать правильно)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21559618) by [Saysly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saysly/pseuds/Saysly)

Brock waited all week to see Jack. 

It was all he could think about, no matter how he tried to occupy his time or how many dregs he took from the bottle. Seeing Jack was all he could focus on, the only thing left in his world since the Trisk came down. Actually Brock thought a lot about that day as well; about what had gone wrong and all the things he could have done differently. But Brock would let those memories drown in liquor while he reminisces about before, about his not-so-secret lover, about Jack Rollins the one good thing to happen to him. 

~~~~

“Always gettin’ lost in that head of yours,” Brock murmurs against Jack’s throat. 

The cheap bare thread sheets of the hourly motel are rough against his heated skin and smell of whatever chemical cleaner they use, sweat, and the sweet musty scent of Jack swirl around him. A big broad hand runs over his thigh, stroking his skin with tenderness Brock didn’t realize he craves while he’s sinking down against Jack’s chest. His eyes are hooded over with blissful satisfaction, basking in the afterglow of an orgasm. 

“Always thinking about you, Princess.” Jack always jabs at him when Brock gets a little too soft. 

Still, a heat prickles under his skin, something dirty and wrong about enjoying such a degrading name. It bothers him a bit to be so blatantly at fault for this mess up but he’s not a man who admits his mistakes. Brock draws away from Rollins anyway — because he has to, not because he wants to. 

“You’re such a fairy, Rollins.” 

Brock watches him in the corner of his eye. He watches the sad smile quirk up the corners of Jack’s lips before he sits up. The sheet still draped between them, hiding their nudity even though they were both intimately familiar with it. The taste of Jack still lingers on Brock’s tongue as he throws on his clothes and braves the late morning sun. He gets in his car and waits. He watches Jack getting into his pick up and disappear. Brock will see him on Monday and they will be coworkers, nothing more. 

It’s the way things have always been. Brock is just thankful for stolen moments. 

~~~~

When Brock comes to visit he brings beers. Not flowers because flowers and all that gay shit was never their speed. Brock can feel the swell of hatred in him as he drives down the familiar road. He’s also excited in a sickening way. He goes ahead and steals a beer because Jack won’t mind.

Making the ride alone is tough. Brock thinks about turning around the entire way before he arrives. He parks and gets out. He nods at Jack’s neighbors and as usual they say nothing, probably judging him for swinging a half empty pack of beer at his side. It beats the rotten flowers the person two spots down has. Brock stumbles a bit over his feet, liquid courage draining away quickly as he arrives.

~~~~

The way Jack kisses him is mesmerizing.

How their lips mold together adds heat to Brock’s body which is already damn near combusting from the need to be touched. Jack is giving but he’s slow. He takes his time, holding Brock’s face as he kisses him sweetly. Like Brock is delicate and somehow deserves such tenderness. He could take rough better than most and Jack’s body is built to be powerful, just like Brock. But he doesn’t show his power when he touches Brock. He’s not intimidating, he sits back and touches him gentle. He cherishes the insides of Brock’s thighs before he ghosts his lips over Brock’s hole. Then he takes each cheek in one big broad hand and massages them before kissing the milky skin softly. 

And then finally, finally, Jack’s tongue is lapping over his —

~~~~

Brock stands in front of Jack for a moment, lost for words as he always was whenever he comes. He wants to say everything and typically he ends up saying nothing. The beers hanging from his hand remind him of the task and he steps forward to place the cans carefully in front of him. 

“Hey Jackie.” Brock swallows thickly before he draws in a shuddering breath. “I showed up again. Just l, uh, can’t seem to stay away.”

Brock rubs the back of his neck, staring skyward in hopes of the tears going back to wear they belonged. He wouldn’t cry like a little pussy, “I just,” He exhales shakily. There was no real rush on getting the words out, it wasn’t like Jack was going to cut in. 

He didn’t talk to Brock anymore. He couldn’t since that night. 

Brock looks at the gravestone and steels his jaw. “I came to say I miss ya, Jackie. And…”

He wants to tell him but he can’t. He leaves, nursing another beer, the ‘I love you’ hanging heavy on his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed?


End file.
